Archive of Our Own

Chapter Text

Dark silky dress…

Covered in shimmering glitter…

Strip of blue in the center…

Just like the night sky…

One's mind echoed that mantra, as it had for the past hour. It would continue to do so until she got this right.

A black dress began to materialize. Again. Repeat it again.

Its fabric gained sparkling glitter. Again.

A blue strip cut through the center. Again.

The dress appeared. One looked at it, hoping for the beautiful pattern she envisioned.

It was covered in garish cartoony star glitters.

One just groaned and kicked it away. How hard was it to get a good piece of clothing from these powers?! She could picture it perfectly, but every attempt got her clothes with the wrong colors, wrong patterns, wrong sizes! It was well past midnight, she'd been up for hours trying to make the dress in her mind, but each attempt just got worse! She'd lost count of the failures, they just sat in a pile of shame. It was bad enough that she couldn't sleep, why was it so hard to get this right?

Right…One thought, mind gripping the word as she collapsed onto her bed. The number tried to ignore it, but something about her life had always felt wrong. It wasn't dreadful, but no matter what One did, each day would leave her unsatisfied.

Every thought came from a reason, but none of hers made sense.

Why did she think about reaching for things? That habit had always been with her, well before she got powers. But she never had hands. She never even had arms! This was an undeniable fact, but inexplicitly she'd catch herself thinking about grabbing something like a handed person would. How did that even happen, it was so weird for someone like her to have that habit.

Why were the other numbers so uncomfortable around her? At first she assumed it was due to her lack of arms. It meant she couldn't do many things the other numbers could do with ease. But, thanks to Two, that wasn't a problem anymore! With her powers she could grab things, hold things, move things! Nothing was stopping her from drawing with Six, making music with Seven, playing cards with Ten and Eight… so her body SHOULDN'T be an issue. The others SHOULDN'T look at her with disinterest for daring to exist near them. They SHOULDN'T grimace whenever she asked to join in their activities. But they always did. When they weren't too busy hanging out with each other, they were making up excuses to get away from her. One wanted to know why. The reason they were all so quick to reject her, but it wouldn't change anything. No matter what she did, they would never be her friends.

But that was nothing compared to Four. That number was always off in their own world, each person that approached them for a conversation only got blank stares and empty small talk. One didn't care why. Frankly, it was insulting Four did this at all when so many numbers were willing to give him the time of day. But the few exceptions were always with her. Every time he saw One, Four was keen on sending every non-verbal sign he didn't want her around. Jittery movements, judgmental glances, even some angry grunts on his bad days. Two insisted that Four's behavior wasn't personal, they were just stressed. But it was obvious that number was trying to hide a pure unfiltered hatred for her. It was beyond unfair, but One had to deal with his nonsense when fate forced them together, and she still had to wonder why.

Her life was empty. Every day was wasted on the same benign activities, usually by herself. Wake up. Make clothes. Visit the playground. Stargaze. Again and again, until she finally fell asleep. And some nights, like this one, she couldn't even get that! The number couldn't keep track of how many times she was plagued with insomnia and restlessness.

That was all life brought her, unless she was lucky enough to hang out with Two or Three. She enjoyed those moments, but she also used to enjoy making clothes. How long until hanging out with her only friends got boring? How long until each ounce of joy was drained away from those moments, and they just felt flat? How long until they became reminders of how utterly bland her life was? How long until all of this coupled with the restless nights became too much for her? How could she ever be content with a life like this?

It could've been worse. It was better than nothing. She didn't care. It wasn't enough.

The biggest reason why? That hunger.

That indescribable craving sitting inside her, chipping away at each bit of comfort in her mind. 'Life is good enough.' 'It's fine.' 'You're fine.' 'You have everything you need…' But she didn't. No matter how much One told herself nothing was missing, that empty pit in her stomach kept asking for something. It was a hunger that couldn't be satisfied with food, something like-

"Like addiction."

Right…how did that slip her mind. Three said that recently, and it seemed like the perfect word to describe this. Why else would she have all these cravings and symptoms… But what was she addicted to? What was the magical cure that could free her from this cycle? One didn't know. She might never know, but she needed it. And she was going to get it, even if it didn't exist here.

One closed her eyes. The solution to her problem existed somewhere, she just had to picture it…what did this thing look like? Something in her mind told her it was…pink? Yeah, pink. And small enough to fit on her non-existent palms. It might've been hard too, One couldn't imagine crushing the thing with her non-existent fingers. So it was pink, small, hard, and…edible. Maybe. Not particularly tasty or nutritious, but One was pretty sure it was made for consumption. Where did it come from? Did she get it as is or were the pills placed in something, something like…a bottle. With a silver cap.

One sighed. Was that really the best she could do? There's no way she could figure it out with those arbitrary traits. She didn't get a name, a purpose, or even much of an image! Could something this vague resemble anything? Would the cure she was looking for be there when she opened her eyes, or would she see a weird amalgam of ideas? It was time for One to find out...so she opened them, not sure of what to expect.

A bottle was on her bed.

It took a moment for her to realize she stopped breathing. One just knew this was the thing. Within seconds the cap was ripped off. The miracle cure she needed was in her grasp, finally she-

"Addiction? I'm not addicted to anything."

Right…she said that. After Three called her over to play catch with him and Five on the playground. After Three dragged himself outside after days of self-isolation so she could show off her powers. After Three proved he would actually care if she disappeared overnight.

"Well, don't go getting addicted to anything."

They were one of the only numbers she could call a friend. A distant one sure, but a real friend nonetheless. They care about her…she couldn't just throw away their words...

"Pfft, you know I wouldn't do that."

One promised. She assured Three they wouldn't have to worry about this, that she wouldn't risk getting an addiction. But she still let the bottle's contents spill onto her lap.

"One hit." She told herself. "That's all I need…I promise."

She brought 6 of the pills to her lips and swallowed them.

The consequences of One's actions didn't kick in immediately. Seconds turned into minutes as she sat on her bed, anxiously waiting for the pills to do something. Each heart beat got more intense as they threatened to tick into hours. Doubts crept into her mind. About whether this was safe, if this is what death felt like, if this was ever what she wanted.

Then she blinked.